


Do it for the Trees

by JanitorBot



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Hate Sex, M/M, Maverick Zero - Freeform, Post-Apocalypse, Save the trees guys, Self-cest, Time Travel, lorax au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 04:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17297651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanitorBot/pseuds/JanitorBot
Summary: A requested fic in which X is the LoraX, Zero is the Onceler, and Zero needs to clang his past self to save the trees.





	Do it for the Trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Big Dick Bakugan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Big+Dick+Bakugan).



> A commissioned fic for Big Dick Bakugan and TheFuckMachine420, who wanted the following:  
> Crack, Time Travel, Lorax AU where X is the LoraX(lol) and Zero is the Onceler (Tumblr’s Onceler, y’know what I mean), Older BlackArmor!Zero x Younger Zero so self-cest, self-hate sex with self-redemption through fucking, “lmao I just want to see how you’ll do this.”
> 
> I guess some people just want to watch the (fictional) world burn.

When the warbot called Zero finally arrives to his senses, he wakes up to two things: the first is his surroundings. Miles and miles as far his eyes can observe are endless rows of tree stumps, stubborn weeds at the brink of their determination, and scorched dirt under a billowing blanket of a smoggy sky. Zero’s environmental analysis inputs provide him that there are drastic low levels of oxygen – which probably explains why he doesn’t see any sentient, organic life. 

The second is the humanoid robot crouching against what appears to be a tumbled down cobblestone wall, a piece of scattered ruins. The robot appears so worn-out and dirty that their supposedly once-azure armor has dulled to a blue grey that likens to polluted water.

“Who are you?” Zero demands to the other robot. “And what happened here?”

The robot tiredly drags their eyes to the combatdroid with viridian green eyes blinking in and out of functionality. Their face scrunches up in confusion.

“You can speak? Why is it after all this time, only now you can…?” They trail off. Then their face falls into emotionless understanding. “No, that makes sense,” they whisper almost to themself than to Zero. “If ridding the world of humans was your directive, fulfilling that directive would free your processor, allowing you more independent thought.” The robot coughs out a low, bitter chuckle. “Rust me.”

Soberly, the robot introduces themself. “I’m the LoraX.  And _you_ are what happened to this world.”

Zero blinks. Now it’s his turn to be confused. “I happened…?”

“Yes. You.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The LoraX stares and stares some more. Finally he sighs, rubbing a hand to the back of his head.

“There’s nothing more to lose. Not anymore,” the LoraX says. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

And so the LoraX tells the tale on how Zero killed the world.

 

* * *

 

“It’s not a wrong strategy. If you wanted to drive humanity to extinction, destroying the trees and taking away one of their primary sources of oxygen is not a bad way to do it.”

“So…all the humans are dead?”

“Fortunately, no. I sent them away. Somewhere far away where they can have a chance to survive. Now it’s just you and me and the bunch of mindless rogue mechaniloids roaming this empty husk of a world. You must be proud.”

Indignation. “I’m not proud. I don’t even remember anything.”

“…you don’t?”

Zero doesn’t. If it weren’t for the fact that his own armor, which has blackened from layers of unwashed smoke and ash, Zero would have thought the LoraX was lying.

“I don’t like this world,” the warbot states. “Is there a way to fix it?”

The LoraX balls his fists. “You’re kidding me. After all the destruction you’ve wrecked, after all the attempts I tried to stop you, _now_ you want to be constructive?”

“From what you’ve told me, it seems I experienced some heavy malfunctions that has driven me to be a berserker. That...’Maverick,’ as you say, was not me.”

The LoraX hesitates. “Realistically, there’s no way to restore this kind of damage. But if we’re considering even the more extreme measures…”

“Tell me,” demands Zero. “You said there’s nothing more to lose and you’re right. I can suspect that the Earth’s expiration date is quickly approaching. What do you have in mind?”

 

* * *

 

The worst case scenario of using a previously-untested time machine: both Zero and the Lorax will open a rip in the space-time continuum thus opening a hole in the fabric of reality, risking the entire cosmos to devour itself out of existence.

The best case scenario: they succeed to go back in time in the beginning of Zero’s younger self’s rampage and be able to commit a significant change within three hours before the machine forcibly takes them back to their original time.

The universe exhales a breath of relief that the latter happens.

 

* * *

 

 Zero’s younger self is a monster.

Blazing crimson armor matching a pair of crimson eyes, a mouth twisted in a seemingly permanent malicious cackle, laughing in child-like joy while indulging in senseless destruction.

Zero blankly watches this creature tear through the forest in violent glee, disappearing into the darkness underneath the heavy shade of the trees with the sounds of chopping and toppling echo in his wake.

“No one could stop you,” the LoraX says monotonously, hobbling down into his trademark crouch. He has seen it all before. “Your combat capabilities were far superior than mine and you crippled me until I was useless. Others tried, but any reploid who encountered you fell to your Virus soon enough. It was all a fruitless endeavor in the long run.”

The LoraX eyes at Zero. “You have three hours. Do you have a plan?”

Grim, Zero nods. “I have something.”

With that said, Zero chases after his literal past demon into the forest.

 

* * *

 

Zero’s younger self – the _Maverick_ \- does not know what to make out of him.

The experience is so bizarre that the Maverick stills in his rampage, tilting its head at Zero. Probably because both combatdroids’ threat assessment of each other is a literal zero. The urge to fight, less alone kill, does not exist, which is appropriate since Zero does not seek self-termination even if it’s upon a form of himself outside of himself.

Nonetheless a rush of pure disgust shoots through Zero upon seeing his former self reduced to this insane murderer that can’t think next beyond its next kill. All of its higher functioning, everything that what makes it an advanced robot and not some stupid, feral beast, is wiped away for this degrading behavior and Zero loathes the indignity. This person was - _is_ not him. 

“Let’s find out what happened to you,” Zero snarls lowly when he comes close to the Maverick.

Shoving the other robot against a nearby tree, Zero seizes a wrist and pins it above before grabbing the Maverick’s neck below its wild shock of golden hair, smashing their faces together.

It’s messy, rough, and so, so animalistic that Zero despises it, a dark lingering undercurrent through the starbursts of pleasure. When he feels a tongue laving up his neck, he growls and tugs the Maverick’s ponytail back with a harsh yank, biting down the other’s neck in return, tasting nanites on his tongue. They’re both tearing off each other’s armors desperately, and Zero relishes every yelp of pained desire when he digs his fingers bruisingly into the other’s waist, forcing their hips to line up and _grind_.

The thing below him moans freely, head cocked back and lips parted shamelessly, an obscene picture. It snakes a hand down between them and Zero hisses, the Maverick taking ahold of both their members and roughly pumping it up and down, becoming increasingly erratic as they both steadily approach their overload.

Zero releases a guttural moan, gasping when his overload is torn from him. His vision glitches and restores to the sight of his physical reflection splayed out, encroaching towards shutdown in hazy pleasure and exhaustion. Only Zero would allow himself to be vulnerable with himself.

With the Maverick asleep, Zero can finally do what he needs to do.

Exventing heavily, Zero shuts his eyes, focusing as he enters his younger self’s network.

He had an inkling. This simply confirms it.

The Virus was too much. Too much information, too many minds, and if it wasn’t for his younger self taking the sheer brunt of the chaotic flurry of noise and activity, even Zero himself would drown into it. It’s all for his past self to coordinate the Virus and drive it into a single directive, but there’s barely any room for anything else.

Zero reaches in, mentally wincing as he dips his metaphorical hand into the whirlpool of connections gone haywire, and closes it.

He sees the redness fade from his younger self’s eyes and sigh when he checks his chronometer.

Just in time.

 

* * *

 

“It’s anticlimactic on how startling easy that was,” the LoraX comments blankly when both robots flash back to the current time and to an ocean of greenery. Instead of a depressing scenery, they're greeted to a gorgeous view of high-reaching trees - trees so many that they dot the horizon.

A touched incredulous, the crouching robot turns to Zero. “What did you _do?”_

Zero grimaces.

“You don’t want to know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Personally, I'm low-key surprised I managed to write this fic and it didn't end up being comedic.  
> Or maybe it is and I'm having a fever dream.   
> I'm Janitorbot at Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr - give me a holler about anything ever.


End file.
